


This Christmas Thing

by Dormchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Overwatch - Freeform, Secret Santa, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 03:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17113454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dormchi/pseuds/Dormchi
Summary: Hanzo isn’t particularly good at this Christmas thing, which is why he imagines that the other agents were just trying to be friendly when they included his name in Secret Santa. Or perhaps it was Genji, who is still tirelessly championing the cause of getting everyone to accept his older brother as part of the team. Whichever one it might be, Hanzo didn’t have to agree to it. He could have walked by the common room with his food in hand and made it back to his room faster than anyone could stop him.But McCree called out to him as he passed by and Hanzo’s traitorous legs stopped immediately because he’s also not good at… whatever this thing developing between McCree and himself is.Hanzo isn't good at this, but with some help, he makes sure his Secret Santa receives the perfect gift.





	This Christmas Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PUNCH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNCH/gifts).



> Here is my Secret Santa submission for the Lovewatch discord server!~ I've been so grateful for all of the wonderful people there who have been so kind. This one is for Kirstin. They made a note on the Secret Santa form that really spoke to me: "I'm a sucker for Hanzo surprising Jesse by being unexpectedly sweet or affectionate." I hope you enjoy it, Kirstin!
> 
> I realize this is kind of like Secret Santa inception. We're just gonna roll with it. >_> Sorry for any errors, this is unbeta'd!

Hanzo isn’t particularly good at this _Christmas thing_ , which is why he imagines that the other agents were just trying to be friendly when they included his name in Secret Santa. Or perhaps it was Genji, who is still tirelessly championing the cause of getting everyone to accept his older brother as part of the team. Whichever one it might be, Hanzo didn’t have to agree to it. He could have walked by the common room with his food in hand and made it back to his room faster than anyone could stop him.

 

But McCree called out to him as he passed by and Hanzo’s traitorous legs stopped immediately because he’s also not good at… whatever this thing developing between McCree and himself is.

 

Which is how he ended up sitting on the couch in the common room, a bowl of rice and fish balanced in his lap, with McCree sitting so close he can practically smell him. Truly everyone on the team is here -- Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Morrison, Mei, even Bastion, among all the others -- and still, Hanzo feels the strange sense of calm wash over him that only comes from having McCree close by.

 

“You sure you got everybody’s names in there?” Lúcio asks, shaking the pieces of paper around in the hat -- his hat, Hanzo believes, judging from the lime green frog printed on it.

 

“Of course I did, dude!” Hana huffs and puts her hand on her hip, looking around the room. “So, who wants to pick first?”

 

“I will draw first blood!” Reinhardt booms cheerfully. Hanzo respects the man very much, but he’s incredibly relieved that he’s sitting on the opposite side of the room. It’s far too early for his ears to be ringing.

 

Hana bounces around the room from agent to agent, and everyone picks a name blindly from the hat. Morrison picks himself, asks gruffly if he can keep it, and even cracks a smile when Hana snatches it away from him and makes him pick again. Genji and Zenyatta pick next, followed by Brigitte and Mei, and then it comes time for Hanzo to choose.

 

They are the last two to pick, Hanzo and McCree, and there are only two pieces of paper left. He’s not sure what makes him hesitate -- perhaps the feeling of every eye in the room focused on him, even if they seem good natured or mildly interested for the most part. McCree leans over and says quietly, close enough that Hanzo can smell tobacco and mint on his breath, “Go ahead and pick first, Han.”

 

A shiver runs down Hanzo’s spine, and before he can agonize over what that might mean, he sticks his hand into the hat a little too forcefully and pulls out one of the two remaining names. McCree reaches over him smoothly, plucking the last one up with his metal hand. He unfolds it carefully, and if Hanzo thought that McCree’s poker face might fail then and give any indication of whose name he picked, he was sorely mistaken. McCree’s expression is perfectly neutral as he refolds the paper and tucks it away.

 

Hanzo doesn’t look at the name he picked until he’s back in his room, despite Genji’s attempts to peek at who he got. He took a chance to slip away when everyone else was arguing over what Christmas movie to watch first, and only when the door is shut behind him does he unfold the piece of paper to look at the name printed on it.

 

\--

 

Picking out a gift for McCree turns out to be incredibly difficult.

 

Maybe Hanzo is putting too much thought into it, but he knows very little about McCree’s interests outside of smoking cigars, squeezing nine shots out of a six-shooter, and drinking whiskey straight. The conversation they’ve made over the months since Hanzo arrived at the Watchpoint hasn’t been very helpful, in this regard.

 

He has a week to come up with something. Hanzo spends two solid days of it mulling over his options, comes up with no viable options, and finally resorts to asking Genji for assistance.

 

“I knew I’d find out who you got for Secret Santa,” Genji says smugly, cracking open one eye to look at Hanzo as he steps into the garden. Bastion is off tending to his flowers, and both Genji and Zenyatta are sitting in the sun, meditating. Well, Zenyatta is meditating. Genji is looking at him like he really wants to say, “ _I told you so_.” but knows how well that will go over.

 

Hanzo drops down next to his brother and assumes a lotus pose, so he can at least keep the illusion that the three of them are meditating. “ _You know McCree better than I do_ ,” he starts in Japanese, finding the words are difficult to get out, but soldiering on regardless. “ _I don’t wish to get him something… boring. Expected_.”

 

Genji studies him for a moment, maintaining his posture. “ _It sounds like my own brother is asking me for something._ ”

 

Hanzo inhales deeply and closes his eyes, trying to find his happy place. He knows exactly where this is going. The initial months of repairing his relationship with his brother were difficult, and they still hit snags in the process even now, but Genji is still Genji, after all.

 

“Come on, you can say it. Say the words.”

 

“Genji…”

 

“Hanzoooo.”

 

“I need your help.”

 

\--

 

On Christmas Day, the common room is decorated from floor to ceiling, which initially throws Hanzo off. He hasn’t been back here since they drew names for Secret Santa, so he wasn’t expecting the 8 foot tall Christmas tree or anything else, really. He hadn’t even seen anyone bring it onto the base.

 

He’s late to the party apparently because everyone is already gathered. From across the room, he sees McCree sitting in his favorite spot on the couch. He’s probably the only one not wearing something Christmas-themed, aside from Hanzo, and it’s that commonality between them that draws him immediately towards McCree after he deposits his present under the tree.

 

He takes his seat on the couch and allows himself to bask in McCree’s warm smile. The gunslinger always seems so genuinely pleased to see him, and when he stopped looking for a hidden motive, it became easier to allow himself to simply enjoy the feeling.

 

“There’s hot chocolate being made, m’told,” McCree says, taking out the toothpick he’s been chewing on and replacing it with a new one. “Might not be too late to get in on that.”

 

If only the other man knew of Hanzo’s demonic sweet tooth and the danger of offering him such things. “I’ll be fine. There is a new bottle of sake waiting for me when we are done here.”

 

“Need a drinking partner?”

 

Hanzo doesn’t hesitate, for once, and for that, he’s a little proud of himself. He’s accepted that he desires McCree’s companionship more and more these days, and it is Christmas, after all. “I would like that.”

 

“Alright, everyone!” Hana shouts as she walks back into the room with a steaming mug in hand. “It’s Secret Santa time! I’ll pass out all the gifts and then we’ll open them all at once.”

 

Hanzo feels a drop in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know how well his gift will be received, but he trusts that Genji didn’t lead him astray. Lúcio reads off the names on the tags and hands them to Hana, who distributes them to all of the agents. The room is incredibly loud with the sounds of everyone chatting excitedly, but somehow Hanzo feels only the slightest anxiety.

 

He realizes as Hana hands him his present that his thigh is touching McCree’s knee or vice versa, and he has no idea when that happened. It doesn’t seem to bother McCree, so he doesn’t say anything or attempt to move away.

 

“Aaaand open!”

 

Hanzo’s gift is wrapped in blue paper with a silver bow on top and looks almost too pretty to open. He carefully pulls at the taped ends of it, trying to preserve the paper as much as possible. Once he has the paper removed to reveal the box inside, he hesitates.

 

Around him are the sounds of people laughing and thanking each other, truly enjoying Christmas together, and for just a few moments he can feel the familiar voice in the back of his mind insisting that he doesn’t deserve to be part of this. He should set the gift down and leave, run as far as he can possibly go to spare his brother or McCree the inevitable pain and disappointment that Hanzo will cause them.

 

McCree knocks his knee against Hanzo’s thigh, breaking the spell immediately. “What’d you get, darlin’?”

 

Hanzo blinks at him and looks down at the box. He wonders absently if he can ever express to McCree how grateful he is to have him nearby. “I don’t know.”

 

“Well yeah, ‘cause you gotta open it,” McCree says with a grin.

 

“Is that so?” Hanzo sighs, smiling despite himself, and lifts the lid off of the box.

 

His breath catches. Inside the box, nestled in blue tissue paper, is a bottle with a symbol printed on it that is reminiscent of the dragons. Tied around it is a thick blue cord, one that looks long enough to go around his waist. He touches his fingers to it, wondering who might have gotten it for him.

 

“I know you’ve been changin’ up your look lately, so I figured you might want somethin’ a little more modern to carry your sake in.”

 

Hanzo looks at McCree with wide eyes. “You are my Secret Santa?”

 

“That’s me.” McCree smiles a little bashfully. “Do you like it?”

 

There are few times in his life that Hanzo has felt so intensely for someone and allowed himself to express it. Now, he can’t imagine why he wouldn’t, as he observes McCree’s hopeful expression and knows that what he says next will set the course for the evening.

 

“It’s perfect,” Hanzo says quietly, pushing his thigh against McCree’s knee. “What are you doing later?”

 

McCree looks a little startled but recovers quickly. “I’m free right now, actually.”

 

“Good.”

 

\--

 

They only manage to sneak away from the festivities after someone makes the suggestion of Christmas karaoke. McCree suggests that Reinhardt goes first, which gives them the perfect opportunity to leave unnoticed when the man is boisterously expressing his love of singing Christmas songs. Hanzo has to give McCree credit where it is due -- he can be remarkably cunning and stealthy when he wants to be.

 

“Come in,” Hanzo says as he opens the door to his room. McCree steps inside after him, but lingers just there, surveying the room. Hanzo doesn’t blame him; he does the same whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place. After a few moments, McCree seems to relax, and Hanzo closes the door behind him.

 

“Quaint little room. For some reason I expected it to be more Spartan than this.”

 

“How so?”

 

McCree grins. “Well, you know. Your bed ain’t made, for one. That’s surprising.”

 

"I allow myself to be lazy on holidays," Hanzo chuckles as he opens the drawer where McCree’s present is tucked away. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, but he’s going to take a leap of faith. Carefully, he pulls the gift from the drawer and shuts it, so he can’t change his mind.

 

“I have a brand new bottle to crack open,” McCree says, looking at the few pictures that Hanzo keeps on his nightstand. “Mei was my Secret Santa. Sweet thing couldn’t be more obvious, askin’ me what my favorite kind of whiskey is-- What is that?”

 

Hanzo almost recoils at the shock on McCree’s face, but he knows the other man means nothing by it. He holds out the gift in front of him in offering. “Merry Christmas, McCree.”

 

“Shoot, Hanzo,” McCree says, hesitating for a beat before taking the gift from him, “you didn’t have to do this.”

 

“I wanted to.”

 

McCree gives him an unreadable look before setting the gift down on the end of the bed so he can unwrap it. The red wrapping paper peels away to reveal a white box underneath, which he takes the lid off of and sets aside. As soon as he sees what’s inside, a huge grin spreads on his face and his shoulders shake with laughter.

 

“Where… where’d you find this?” McCree asks as he pulls the sweater from the box to hold it up.

 

The sweater is maroon, trimmed with yellow and white, and has ‘BAMF’ printed across the torso of it. McCree hasn’t stopped grinning since he saw it, which Hanzo assumes is a good thing.

 

“Genji helped me pick it out,” Hanzo explains, wanting to give his brother credit for his patience. It took three days for Hanzo to find something he actually wanted to give to McCree and Genji’s commitment to helping him didn’t waver.

 

“You didn’t get me for Secret Santa, though.”

 

“I know. Genji helped me pick that one too,” Hanzo says, feeling the back of his neck grow hot. “If Morrison happens to ask you who purchased the enormous mug that says ‘World’s Okayest Boss’, please say that you don’t know.”

 

“He’d never believe me if I told him it was you,” McCree laughs, a deep and pleasant timbre. The sound of it is infectious and warms Hanzo from the inside. “Don’t worry though, your secret is safe with me.”

 

They fall into a comfortable silence as McCree examines his sweater again, and Hanzo watches as the other man pulls it on over the top of his flannel. It’s just barely big enough to accommodate the other shirt beneath it.

 

“You’re going to wear it now?” Hanzo asks, amused.

 

“The man I love gave it to me, of course I’m gonna wear--”

 

McCree stops short, his face flushing a deep shade of red. Hanzo stares at him with wide eyes, brain trying to process what he just heard.

 

“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” McCree asks quietly, his expression pained.

 

Hanzo’s heart thuds furiously in his chest. He must take slightly too long to answer, because McCree opens his mouth and then closes it again, like he was going to try to explain or make a joke but decided against it. McCree moves to pulls the sweater over his head and Hanzo grabs his hands, preventing him from doing so.

 

“Did you mean that?” Hanzo asks, looking up at McCree and searching his face.

 

“I mean it,” McCree agrees, his expression closed off like he’s expecting Hanzo to reject him.

 

There is nothing as easy in that moment as Hanzo sliding his hand up to the back of McCree’s neck and pulling him down into a kiss. McCree’s lips are soft and slightly chapped beneath his, but unresponsive, and he worries for a split second that he made the wrong decision, that perhaps a kiss wasn’t welcome after all.

 

Like most of his worries regarding McCree, this one too is unfounded. After a moment, McCree makes a soft, wondering sound and winds his prosthetic arm around Hanzo’s waist, pulling him close. The other hand he uses to cup Hanzo’s cheek, his palm unbearably warm against Hanzo's skin. Hanzo pushes his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of McCree’s neck and shivers as McCree parts Hanzo’s lips with his tongue.

 

Kissing McCree feels so ludicrously good that Hanzo wonders why it hadn’t occurred to him before to do it. The warmth that blooms in his chest and belly when McCree is near, the peace he feels when he hears McCree’s voice, the easy companionship they share -- all of it feels like it led him here.

 

Hanzo doesn’t know how long they kiss, only that his knees are weak in the best kind of way and he never wants to stop. When they finally pull apart, there’s a low, needy sound that lingers between them, and Hanzo realizes with no small amount of embarrassment that the noise definitely came from him.

 

They’re both breathing hard, chests heaving in the space between them, and McCree hasn’t released him yet. Hanzo is grateful because he thinks he might fall if he does.

 

“Good?” McCree asks.

 

“Very good,” Hanzo agrees, smoothing his hand over the side of McCree’s neck. “Where do we go from here?”

 

“I was thinkin’ dinner, drinks, then see where the night takes us. Been waitin’ a long time to take you out.” McCree grins. “Unless you’ve got other plans, sweetheart.”

 

Hanzo rubs his thumbs over McCree’s jaw and smiles, his heart feeling lighter than it has in a long time. “I’ll follow your lead, cowboy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Dormchi on Twitter as well! Tumblr can eat my shorts.


End file.
